


What Really Happened

by Solitae



Series: Lilian Hawke, mage revolutionary [2]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Friendship, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-03-31
Updated: 2011-12-06
Packaged: 2017-10-17 10:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solitae/pseuds/Solitae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dwarf can't tell all his secrets, can he? And sometimes, even Varric doesn't know everything. Originally, I intended this to be a set of one-shots, but apparently I have a story to tell about Cullen. Expect more of our dear Knight-Captain soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Varric and the Knight-Captain

**Author's Note:**

> So, I have a mild fascination with what Varric might not want to tell Cassandra...and with Cullen. Why not combine them?
> 
> Anyway, some Cullen lines are taken directly from the game.

Varric rolled his eyes as the siblings began their usual sniping before they were even well away from the now demon-corpse infested crossroad.

"You just had to use magic in front of the blasted Knight-Captain, didn't you?" Carver growled. "Are you stu-"

Lilian stopped directly in front of her brother, offering no apologies when he crashed into her back. Glaring, she turned on him, ignoring the robe that tangled around her ankles and nearly sent her sprawling. "No, I am not stupid, nor have I taken leave of my senses, nor do I suddenly think he'll be merciful toward apostates." Anger flashed in her eyes as she scowled up at her brother, her chin thrust out. One leg shaking free of her robe rather spoiled the effect.

"Perhaps we could keep moving.." Anders suggested quietly with a wary glance back toward the desolate path where a shaken Cullen knelt over the abominations. "I'd really hate for him to come to his senses right now."

Even the healer drew Hawke's ire, and he lifted his hands to ward off the threat of lightning blasting his head. "Just an idea."

Another furious glare took in her brother, but Lilian began marching on again, only to trip over the hem of her robe within a few steps. "Maker take you, you worthless, tight-arsed, leg-humping _skirt_ _!_ " she snarled, shaking off Anders' quick support at her elbow.

Varric covered his own smirk with a glance behind them, but when he turned back, he was greeted by a pair of skinny legs bare to the thighs. His eyes rose slowly, and he found Hawke defiantly clutching at the lower portion of her robe as she stalked forward, limbs freed now. Anders stared openly while Carver just glowered as both scurried to catch up with her.

"Andraste's ass, Lil, you can't just-" the warrior finally caught the look on Anders' face, and he slapped the back of the healer's head hard enough to make Varric wince. "Stop looking at my sister!"

"I suppose it would have been better if Anders and I had done nothing. Let the three of you be eaten by demons?" Lilian ignored their expressions and Carver's protests, continuing on with her robe hiked up. "Mother would _never_ forgive me, and those templar recruits knew we were headed out here." She was using her _how_ _can_ _you_ _be_ _this_ _stupid_ _,_ _Carver_ _?_ voice, and Varric shared a long-suffering look with Anders before falling back a few steps. "I'm sure it would be absolutely brilliant for us to be alive and the Knight-Captain dead or possessed. No one would _ever_ think to blame us."

"You go ahead." Varric informed no one in particular, since they weren't listening to him anyway. "I have to take a piss."

Anders gave him a pleading look while Lilian's distracted wave told him she'd heard, but Carver was intent on needling his sister."You still shouldn't have used magic in front of-"

"What exactly was I supposed to do? Hit them with my staff? Stab them? Those bastards are mean! They're _demons_..."

Their voices began to fade away as Varric quickly sauntered back to the templar, the dwarf catching another muffled nudge from Anders that they really ought to be _going_ _._

Quickly, he made his way back to the crossroad, and with a low whistle, he stepped into view. "Maker, those things are vicious. You aren't injured, are you, Knight-Captain?"

The dwarf's pleasant inquiry snapped the templar's head up, and he just stared for a moment, his eyes focused on some distant spot that Varric was certain existed more in memory than reality. Finally, he jerked himself back to the present and shook his head. "No, thank you. Your friends..."

Varric just waved dismissively. "They've gone on. I thought I would make sure none of these got back up and snapped at you again." He gave the Knight-Captain his smoothest smile, undeterred by his narrowed eyes. "It's a shame about your recruit though. I didn't know templars could be possessed too."

Cullen's jaw tightened. "They can. Under.. _.certain_ circumstances as you have seen."

All amiability, Varric shook his head with regret. "Still, it's unfortunate. I suppose it's good that we showed up when we did though. I'd hate to think of you facing those bastards on your own."

"What do you want, dwarf?" The Knight-Captain snapped impatiently, no doubt furious that he owed his life to not one, but _two_ apostates.

Varric just shrugged as he leaned against an outcropping of rock. "I thought I would offer our services to help you deal with this threat. It's not often you find someone who doesn't piss themselves when a demon pops out, I'm certain. She's," he jerked his head in the direction Hawke had gone, "got a knack for it though. Hates them. It's a golden opportunity, Knight-Captain." Varric drawled casually.

Cullen stared at the dwarf as though he'd lost his mind. "She's...she's.."

The dwarf interrupted. "She's discreet. She'd have to be, and you and I both know you need someone like her to deal with demons infecting templars." Cullen winced, but Varric pressed on. "Can you imagine the scandal if this got out?"

The Knight-Captain's paling skin and taut posture told Varric he could quite well. "I-"

"Or if it reached the Knight-Commander's ears? Maker, the Gallows would run with blood, and not just from mages." Varric shook his head slowly before confidently meeting the taller man's worn gaze, a calming expression on his face. "Trust me, my friend, you _need_ someone who can handle this quickly and quietly."

Varric waited as the Knight-Captain turned over his offer, practically watching the thoughts form as the templar considered it ponderously. "And the cost for this service?" he finally asked quietly, and the dwarf knew he had him.

Varric just chuckled, shrugging it off as insignificant. "You forget about that little display by her and Blondie. Those staves? Walking sticks. Something to hit people on the head with."

Cullen bristled at the suggestion and drew himself up to full height, all affronted bluster loading his glare. "And if I say no?"

The dwarf smirked at him. "Like I said, it'd be a shame if word got out about the templars. Some might think they can't do their job. People might lose faith. The Knight-Commander might-"

"You Maker-forsaken-"

"Oh, now, I think that's between me and the Maker," Varric chided with a smirk. "We have a deal?"

The stiff-necked templar stared at him for a long moment, stunned by the dwarf's audacity. His lips curled in a snarl, but he finally dipped his chin once an almost imperceptible nod. "I've been looking for a promising recruit named Keran. He was last seen at the Blooming Rose with Wilmod." The Knight-Captain's teeth snapped with every reluctant word. "I've had no luck interrogating the...ahh...young ladies there."

Varric wasn't sure how a grown man's ears could grow so red on the topic of sex, and already a story of the handsome templar trying to get information from whores began to grow in his head. "Leave that to us, Knight-Captain," the dwarf assured breezily. "We've got friends there, and I'm sure they'll _open_ _up_ more easily to us."

Cullen's cheeks darkened at the innuendo, and he glared before deflating with a sigh. "The order would truly be in your debt if you can resolve this," he muttered without gratitude.

"So they would," Varric agreed with a smirk. "We'll bring word to you at the Gallows soon, Knight-Captain, and if you'd ever care to join me for a drink, stop by the Hanged Man."

The templar merely jerked his head in irritated dismissal, and the dwarf took his leave, humming jauntily as he made his way down the path. Hawke and the others two had stopped to wait when he hadn't immediately rejoined them, and he saw Lilian peering curiously down the path from the boulder she'd perched on.

"Varric," she called with a wave, interrupting whatever Anders had been saying. "Took you long enough. And here I thought you were just full of-"

"Lilian!" Carver cut her off, and she just laughed, blue-green eyes twinkling as she winked at Anders and Varric.

Their chuckles joined her, and Carver sighed with a roll of his eyes. "Must you two encourage her?"

"Yes," Varric answered. "Anyway, you'll never guess who I ran into while I was taking a piss."

"The Queen of Antiva," offered Hawke cheerfully.

Anders chimed in, "The Arishok."

"It was obviously the blasted Knight-Captain," Carver grumbled, glaring at the two mages for their apparent lack of concern over the whole mess.

Lilian rolled her eyes as Varric shook his head. "Junior, you really know how to blow a man's set-up, don't you?"

Carver scowled.

"Anyway, it turns out the last place Keran was seen is the Blooming Rose." Varric had all of their attention then, and he watched the amused quirk of Lilian's brow and the faint smirk on Anders' face. "Apparently our dear Knight-Captain has had _difficulty_ getting information out of the _young_ _ladies_ there."

Hawke snorted a laugh at the image of the earnest templar trying to seriously question the whores. Anders chortled with her, but Carver looked vaguely disconcerted, the boy trying to edge out of his sister's line of sight.

"Maybe Carver can help us with that!" she giggled, her brother's move far too late. "Surely you can convince Faith to point us in the right direction, can't you? Just bat your pretty lashes." Lilian demonstrated for him.

He glared back. "Shut up."

Varric patted him firmly on the back. "No shame in liking a pretty girl, Junior, but if you'd rather we talk to someone else, we can." Somehow, the dwarf's attempts to mediate their arguments always made Carver bristle further, but the warrior said nothing more. "Not only is this a good job.."

His trailing words grabbed the attention of both the mages, and Lilian tilted her head curiously as he continued. "If we can solve it, the order would be in our debt."

Even Carver had to concede that was good with a grunt, and the mages positively beamed at the idea.

"Furthermore, the Knight-Captain didn't see any mages today. We keep this quiet, he keeps quiet."

Lilian spun to stare at the dwarf, her eyes bright with disbelief as she grinned at him. "Really? He didn't see the lightning or paralysis or.."

Anders seemed frozen, his face painted with relief as he studied Varric, and the dwarf could see the nerves he'd hidden display in sudden quickened breath. Neither mage was as casual with their worry as Carver thought.

"Nope, not a one. Just a couple people hitting demons over the head with staves."

Delighted laughter poured from her, and she swooped in to hug Varric tightly. "What would I do without my favourite dwarf?"

"I don't know, Hawke, I really don't know."

As they made their way back to Kirkwall, Lilian rested an arm loosely around Varric's shoulders, chattering companionably with both him and Anders, her smile brightening every step.


	2. The Knight-Captain's Dilemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen wrestles with how to handle Varric and the mages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _ **Note:** I originally was going to post oneshots related to Lilian from the Feathers story as part of **What Really Happened** , but apparently Cullen has a story to tell. So the focus of this will become Cullen (in the Feathers universe). _
> 
> _I owe Drakontion a great deal of appreciation for helping me smooth this one out._

Cullen felt no less filthy than he had before bathing. Scouring his hair and skin had managed to rid him of most of the unholy stench lingering from the fight with the demons, but it did nothing to rid him of the mire seeping into his soul.

Surely every person in the Gallows could see his guilt, the stain of his wretched agreement with that vile excuse for a dwarf. How could he, Knight-Captain Cullen, protect two apostates? How could he even _consider_ it? He knew what they did, knew how their wicked fingers could snake into anyone's mind.

Demons were always a temptation to a mage, no matter now strong, and yet...and yet, he could see her still, her bright eyes glittering with loathing as she threw demons around like so much chaff. They held no interest for her, no power she desired; they were beneath her, unworthy of her fear, and Anders, of all people, seemed infused with the same fury. Cullen had always thought the blond healer foolish and undisciplined, trouble for the sake of trouble, but there he was, blasting the fiends into oblivion. It was a fine thought, mages _fighting_ demons rather than succumbing to them.

So much of what the damned dwarf said made sense, but Cullen refused to let the threat of him running his mouth dictate duty. As Knight-Captain, his duty was to...tell his superiors the truth? ensure that all mages were brought into the Circle? protect the city, the people, the mages and his men from unholy threats? _Sweet Andraste, what did they do to confuse me so?_

He felt eyes on him as he marched across the courtyard, certain his thoughts were painted on his face. As if all the demons of the Fade were on his heels, he fled the Gallows, unable to face anyone there. What if they knew his doubts? Would his subordinates lose faith in him? How could he even begin to lead them?

Across the water on the far dock from the Gallows, he looked around, blinking. Where did he intend to go? Cullen was not a man to drown himself in the drink at the Hanged Man or any of the other unsightly sinks in Lowtown, nor did the temptations of the Blooming Rose offer the least bit of solace. _You can't run from your duty, Cullen. Are you really such a coward?_ The city's inhabitants gave him wide berth as he stalked through the narrow streets, and eventually, he found himself on the wider avenues of Hightown as the sun dipped below the horizon. _Go back, write your report to the Knight-Commander, and let her be the judge._

An evening breeze swept through the city, cooling his face and bringing him the strange mingled scent of the Hightown flowers and the Lowtown foundries. Without him realizing it, his feet had carried him to the Chantry, and for a long moment he stared at the tall edifice. _Thank you, sweet Bride of the Maker._ At least some part of him still possessed sense.

The hush of the Chantry buzzed in his ears, and he suddenly felt loud and oafish, his armor painfully noisy in the silence. Still there was something calming about the gentle scent of incense and the soft flicker of candles, and they wrapped around him like a mother's arms. Surely there were no demons here, only peace and faith. _Faith. What of your own faith, Cullen? Can you kneel in the shadow of Andraste without doubt?_

His whispering thoughts and the openness of the main floor sent him fleeing to one of the higher balconies where he knelt in a small alcove and tried to light a candle as he overlooked the statue of Andraste. His hands shook, the flame faltering twice before it managed to take, and he winced. Was he incapable of even so simple an act of faith?

Cullen pressed his forehead against his clasped hands and breathed in the silence, letting it wash over him and through him. _Andraste, guide me. Show me my duty._ But no soft words came, no swift epiphany revealing his way through the mire, and he squeezed his eyes tighter. Memories swept through him, the templar able still to feel the breath of the demon on his neck, the scent of her, his own want, the _need_ to give in to temptation. _I will not break!_ Still, the remembered vision loomed for an instant more before a sudden fist of earth sent it tumbling, and he saw the pigtailed mage glaring at where it had been. His head shook slightly, and the images mercifully shattered but left him shivering.

The air shifted around him, and he felt someone slip to their knees beside him, but he kept his head bowed. _No, please ... I can't..._

"I hope I am not disturbing, Ser Cullen," the Grand Cleric's gentle voice eased over his ears, and his thoughts froze. "But you seem troubled, child."

Slowly, he lifted his head, not to meet her kind eyes but to stare into the flame in front of him as he nodded slowly. If he looked at her, he was certain she would see every shred of filth in his soul, every little doubt that ate away at his mind, all the visions that lingered...and the fear. He could not bear anyone seeing into his soul again, least of all Her Grace. What if it could tarnish her too?

His lips parted to speak, but he found no words. Embarrassment brought color to his cheeks, and his arm twitched beneath a light touch from her. He clenched his jaw to steady himself. "Take your time, my son. It can be difficult to put one's worries into words."

A grateful smile touched his lips, and he glanced at her hesitantly, trying to ignore uncertainty pooling in his stomach. "You are kind, Your Grace."

"I am concerned," she countered lightly, her smile inviting him to speak, "and willing to help any troubled son of the Maker, Knight-Captain."

His eyes returned to the flame as if it held answers from Andraste herself, and for several long moments, silence reigned between them. There was no expectation in that quiet, simply a moment between two who had learned to exist in it for years. The twisting in his stomach and chest slowed and finally allowed him a small breath as the Grand Cleric waited patiently. She too watched the flame, and he wondered if she divined any wisdom from it. _Perhaps Andraste can still speak to_ _ **her**_ _._

He exhaled slowly, letting his chest deflate before he managed a whisper. "Can a wrong ever be the right thing to do? Can it ever serve duty better?" _Maker, help me, am I honestly considering this?_

Her head tilted as she studied him. "The right path is rarely clear, child, and duty can often be clouded. What is this wrong?"

Cullen pressed his lips together, still unable to look at her. The candle was a useful focus. "A lie, or rather..." he drew a deep breath, "an omission, but it amounts to the same."

Elthina nodded thoughtfully. "Is this lie self-serving?"

"No," he answered without hesitation. "Not at all, but I fear it is not just a lie." His tongue nervously wet his lips. "It...I find myself with duty on two sides, and I must pick one."

The Grand Cleric made a considering sound, and she settled back on her heels. Cullen felt her intense eyes weighing him, and it brought heat to his ears. "Tell me, Knight-Captain, what is the primary duty of a templar?"

He felt a boy again, awkward and ignorant, but he forced himself to focus on the fluttering light of the candle. "To protect all the Maker's children, Your Grace," he murmured.

"Indeed, and have you any other duty above that?"

Cullen weighed his answer carefully, his gauntlets creaking as his hands flexed. "No, but..."

"But?"

"But there are varying..." his voice faltered. "interpretations of that duty."

"That there are, my son," Elthina answered sympathetically. "And decisions are not without consequences, even if they are made for all the correct reasons. But remember that you are a shield against evil, child, one who fights for those who cannot."

He nodded slowly, but she caught the furrow still resting on his brow and reached up to smooth it, her cool touch calm enough that this time he didn't flinch. It was a concerned mother's affection.

"Just as you might take a wound in battle to protect the Maker's children, so too must your soul take a wound at times to keep them safe. Better you than them, Knight-Captain, for you, like I, have sworn to serve. We must make sacrifices."

Cullen lost himself in the flame, her words dancing with the fire in his mind. His very soul to protect his charges. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak again, only to realize he was alone once more with no fingers resting in gentle benediction on his skin.

Back at the Gallows, he bent over his desk in his small room, his quill loud as it scratched out his report. The first draft included every detail he knew of Wilmod's transformation and a precise accounting of just how Cullen had survived it, including the apostate mages who had rescued him. It even included the dwarf's offer. No doubt the Knight-Commander would order them hunted down, and some of his men would die in the process. There would be even fewer to search out the demons, and the mages' help would be out of reach. More demons would infect his men, and ... he shuddered at the thought, not realizing how hard he was clenching his quill between his fingers until it suddenly snapped.

 _You are a shield against evil._

Snarling, he pitched the report and the quill into the fire and watched as the page blackened and curled with the heat of the fire. His teeth gritted, and he slumped in his seat, his face in his hands. His fingers buried in his hair, and he tried _not_ to see the damned woman hurling demons to the ground. He could not respect _a mage_.

 _We must make sacrifices._

Forcing himself to move, the Knight-Captain took out a fresh piece of paper and new quill. Sharpening it, however, with shaking hands proved dangerous, and he paced about his room until he managed some measure of calm. This was to stop _demons_. Whatever else he must do, demons could not be allowed to infiltrate his templars, and if that required the service of apostate mages, then so be it.

 _The right path is rarely clear._

Grimly, Cullen recorded Wilmod's attack, noting he suspected blood magic had influenced the lad who had never been fully committed to the Order. His account continued to relay that he was regretfully forced to slay the recruit when the boy would not stand down. On Keran's disappearance, he simply added that he had acquired the help of some Lowtown mercenaries to speak to the staff at the Blooming Rose since they were not forthcoming with him.

It all sounded so simple, and none of it was precisely untrue, but the omissions niggled at him. Could he really put his name to this? _Andraste, guide me._ He should scratch it all out, tell the whole story, then beg for penance from one of the sisters for this. But he didn't; Cullen just stared at the report.

 _Andraste, forgive me._

He signed it.

He would use this mage to sniff out the demons for him. And he would watch. She might not be in the tower, but he could find her, he could keep eyes on her. When the moment came, when she slipped into the embrace of a demon as mages inevitably did, he would end her himself. _That_ was his duty.


	3. Templars' Duties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen has a discussion with Karras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Note: Thank you to **sagacious_rage** for helping me clean this up. I know I haven't posted anything new in ages! I'm trying to get my writing back in gear. Have some Cullen :D_
> 
> **TRIGGER WARNING** Discussion of implied noncon

**Templars' Duties**

Cullen forced himself to move quietly through the second corridor in the mage's quarters, dim at this hour. Still, the light was enough to see the outline of the templar ahead of him, and his expression hardened. Keran had been correct.

"Ser Karras, I assigned you to courtyard duty tonight." His voice was calmer than he felt, and he clasped his hands casually behind his back as the man in front of him slowed.

Karras turned with a smooth expression, but his eyes were sharp, the light glinting off them. "Traded with Ser Hugh, Knight-Captain."

"Who was assigned to the library."

"On my way back there now, Knight-Captain."

Cullen glanced pointedly down the corridor in the direction Karras had been headed, then stepped back, sweeping his arm the opposite way. "Return to your duties."

His hands resumed their clasp behind his back as Karras stalked toward him, and his eyes locked on Cullen's. Cullen held his gaze impassively, his hand tightening on his wrist.

The other man passed close, intentionally bumping Cullen's breastplate as he snarled just loud enough to be heard, "You've gone soft, boy."

"Knight-Captain." Cullen grabbed Karras' elbow.

The other templar looked him up and down and spat. "Knight-Captain." His lips curved in an unpleasant smile. "For now."

"Yes, for now," Cullen answered calmly. "And until further notice."

"Oh, the Knight-Commander has noticed alright, _Knight-Captain_ ," Karras drawled mockingly. "Noticed that you coddle the mages. Why do you care if I bugger the boy? You a mage-lover?"

Cullen wrenched his arm, yanking Karras to face him, his nose close to the other man's. "Your duty as a Templar is to _protect_ mages."

"Oh, aye, I keep him nice and safe, Knight-Captain. No demons trouble him while I'm there. Mind, he can't cast ei-"

Cullen's fist clenched around his throat and he slammed Karras back into the wall, his plate crunching. His gauntlet bit into the other man's flesh as he leaned close, his voice barely a whisper. "If I find you here again or hear of you _touching_ another mage, I will _geld_ you. Is that clear?"

Cullen loosened his hand just enough to allow him to answer. "The Knight-Commander wo-"

His fist closed again, and he shoved, smacking Karras' head against the wall. "I said," he hissed, "is that clear?"

Karras glared, his fingers curling into a fist at his side. Cullen glanced at the older templar's hand and tightened his grip until Karras nodded and dropped his fist, still snarling.

Cullen released him and stepped back. "Report to Ser Hugh and tell him I said he should return to the library and resume your post in the courtyard. For insubordination, you will spend the next fortnight cleaning the privies. Dismissed."

He crossed his arms behind his back again as Karras straightened up. The other templar rubbed his throat and growled, "Yes, Knight-Captain," before stalking off.

Cullen strode quickly to Alain's room.


	4. Everybody is Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, Cullen pays a visit to Lilian after All that Remains. Always a cheerful time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to sagacious_rage for helping me clean this up.

"Kn-Knight-Captain," the older dwarf's eyes were as round as two silvers, "Messere Hawke is in-indisposed." Bodahn tried to look around him outside the door, as if he was expecting a whole contingent of templars on Cullen's heels. "Please come back another day."

"I wish to offer her my condolences in person, Bodahn. I have a message from Ser Carver as well."

"I understand, Messere," the dwarf continued obsequiously. "I can take the message for her and tell her you came by. I'm certain she appreciates your concern."

Cullen fixed a sharp look on the dwarf, and Bodahn cringed visibly. "Please, Messere..."

"A few moments of her time, that's all I ask."

"But she is..."

"Grieving. As I well know. I have no intention of causing her more difficulty." His face softened. "I assure you, Bodahn. Just ...ask if she will see me."

The dwarf appraised him for a long moment before finally nodding.

Cullen followed him in, waiting in the front room as Bodahn opened the library door. "M'lady, I'm sorry. The Knight-Captain is here. I tried to tell him you were unwell, but he insis-"

"The _Kniiiiiight_ -Captain!" She slurred loudly with a little giggle. "Here to see me? Well, don't keep him waiting, Bodahn!"

The dwarf nodded him into the room, and Cullen's eyes nearly watered. The stench of alcohol was thick in the air, courtesy of a few shattered bottles against the wall and another in Lilian's hand. She sprawled in the chair in front of the fireplace, wiggling her fingers at him. "Bodahn, bring a glass for the Knight-Captain, please!"

"Thank you, Hawke, but I don't-"

"You want to drink from the bottle instead?" she grinned at him, her eyes overly bright. "Fine by me! I'll share-"

"No, I don't wa-"

Hawke waved dismissively at Bodahn, cutting Cullen off. "He doesn't want anything, and he won't drink with me. Go back to ..." she drifted off mid-sentence, staring at the fire.

Bodahn fixed a brief glare on Cullen before leaving the room shaking his head.

"Sit, _Kniiiiiight_ -Captain!" Lilian invited him, scooting over and patting her own chair.

"I'm fine over here, Hawke." Cullen carefully sat in the chair opposite her.

She pouted and took another pull from her bottle. "You're no fun."

"And you're drunk," he pointed out.

"I..." Lilian confirmed with a grin, "am _very_ drunk. You should be drunk too. You'd be more fun if you were drunk."

"You ought not drink alone, Hawke. It's not-"

"Well, I'm not alone now, am I?" Her head lolled, and she leered at him. "I have _you_ for company."

He felt heat rise in his ears, and she giggled again. Glancing up did not improve matters as he caught sight of Lilian eyeing him as she licked a drop of brandy from her lips. "I...ah...Hawke...I fear I ...am poor company. I only wish-"

He swallowed, staring at her as she slunk from her chair. She wobbled over to him, brandy in hand, and plopped into his lap.

"Hawke..." He tried to slide her off, but she _squirmed_ closer.

Somehow, she managed to get an arm around his neck and tipped the bottle against his mouth. "Just one little drink," she cooed, nuzzling his cheek, "so I'm not drinking alone. Please."

It was drink or wear the brandy, so he took a quick swallow and coughed as he pushed it away. "Hawke, mo-" He froze. Her fingers were playing over his chin, and she wore a predatory smile that set the hair on the back of his neck on end.

"A waste of good brandy," she purred, staring at him with glazed eyes.

"You've already wasted some," he protested and leaned back in his chair.

She just grinned, licking the brandy off her finger. "Doesn't mean I should waste _more_."

He glared, painfully aware that his red cheeks did little to support the threat in his eyes. Her smirk only confirmed it. Grimacing, Cullen pushed just as she lunged for him. With a little growl, she pressed her lips hard against his. His eyes shot wide, and he shoved her from his lap as he stood. "Hawke!"

She landed on the floor with a grunt and stared up at him. "What's wrong, Cullen?" Her tongue flicked over her lips again. "Do I need to have Sandal _enchant_ your _sword of mercy_?"

He scowled down at her and crossed his arms. "Maker's _breath_ , Hawke, how much have you-"

Her eyes narrowed and her grin died as she took a defiant swig. "Not nearly enough," she snapped. "What do you want?"

Cullen swallowed at her sudden anger and held out a folded piece of parchment. "Carver asked me to-"

Lilian snatched it from his hand and glared at the seal. "Sod Carver. Couldn't come himself, could he?" She tossed it aside, glowering up at Cullen.

"He didn't think you would want-"

"I don't. _Sod. him._ " She downed another mouthful of brandy as she pulled her legs up to her chest, staring into space.

With a sigh, Cullen crouched in front of her and splayed his hands. "Hawke, I'm so sorry. If there's anything I can-"

"Can do?" she spat at him suddenly. "You can go to the sodding _Void_ , Cullen! That's what you can do!"

He rocked back on his heels, staring at her. "Haw-"

She didn't even hear him, and fury glittered in her eyes. "Where the bloody hell were _you_ when this happened, Cullen? Out chasing people trying to live their lives?" She'd stopped drinking. Her knuckles were white around the neck of the bottle.

She went on shrilly, "Maybe...just _maybe_ if the Maker-forsaken _templars_ could tell the difference between a normal mage and the insane-blood-mage-that-cuts-people-up kind, this wouldn't have sodding _happened_!"

"Hawke, I'm sor-"

"You're sorry! Aveline's sorry! Everybody is fucking _sorry_! But you know what, Cullen?" Her voice hitched, and she stared up at him.

He didn't want to ask, but the word passed his lips before he could stop it. "What?"

" _No one else_ did a sodding thing about it. Not you with your bloody templars, not Aveline with her sodding guards. I told you!" He flinched as she flung the bottle at him. "I _told_ all of you about the bloody bones, about seeing someone. About DuPuis and his blood magic! And _only_ Emeric gave a damn." She looked around for her bottle, scowling at the shards on the floor. "And now he's dead too." A small sound somewhere between a hiccup and a sob shook her. "So _sod you_ too."

There was little Cullen could do other than stare at the carpet guiltily. His shoulders slumped as he bowed his head, his hands clasped behind his back. She was right. This was the type of mage _he_ should have caught. This was the type of mage that templars were _meant_ to guard against. This was why mages were locked up. And they had done nothing.

Silence hung between them with only the occasional sharp crack of the fire to fill it.

He barely realized his hand was sliding toward his belt pouch until Lilian broke in quietly. "So...that's how you're going to deal with this?" The accusation in her voice was faint but there, and he blinked.

Cullen balled his hand into a fist and stared at her. "Is it so different from how you-"

"Yes," she whispered, her head tilted up, her glazed eyes attempting to fix on him. "And you know it."

He dropped his hand with a sigh and shook his head. "No."

Lilian nodded slowly and hugged her legs against her chest. "Thanks." Cullen's brow lifted slightly, and she managed a weak smile. "Go." With that, she turned back to the fire, curling in on herself again.

Cullen hesitated. "Is there anything-"

"No."

"Good night, Hawke."

She just nodded, and he watched her head bend over her knees, her pigtails wobbling. He resisted the urge to comfort her and left, taking a very long route back to the Gallows.


End file.
